


Grimmichi Flash Fiction

by Shapooda



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe, Espada, M/M, Shinigami
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 12:39:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21161807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shapooda/pseuds/Shapooda
Summary: Monthly stories written from prompts for a fun pen-pal exchange~"It took three dead numeros for Ichigo to finally step in. Even disarmed, their captive was feisty. No hope of rescue, and still the shinigami fought like a wildcat..."





	Grimmichi Flash Fiction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FrostCryptid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostCryptid/gifts).

> If you like any of these ideas, feel free to expand on them! I love the thought of these, but don't have time to get to them, so nice idea Crypt, I can make little gifts for you to get it outta my head lol After Crypt gets it irl, I'll post it here C: ILU frend
> 
> Prompt: "I hate to have to do this to you."

It took three dead numeros for Ichigo to finally step in. Even disarmed, their captive was feisty. No hope of rescue, and still the shinigami fought like a wildcat. 

The floor of the cell was streaked in blood, the place where the numeros’ heart should have been was barren, the pulpy mess of it discarded by the wall like a sodden rag. Shinigami were far from the pure protectors they pitched themselves to be, but Ichigo hadn’t been hankering for proof.

Honey- brown eyes shifted back to his bloodied and battered prisoner. The blue-haired shinigami faced him with a stranger’s sword, wielding it like a bloody baseball bat. He might as well face him unarmed. It was kind of sad. 

Once styled blue hair hung in his eyes, stained red in streaks from a nasty strike to the head. The taichou’s smile was bloody, stance strangely confident, despite the lack of hope.

Ichigo ignored his stolen, brandished blade, and rolled the numeros over his the toe of his boot. “34. I’m surprised he didn’t kill you.”

“I ain’t weak like this sack of shit.”

Ichigo looked back, eyes narrowed. Jaegerjaquez was right; the shinigami was far from weak. Even with reiatsu suppressors in place, he just kept killing their soldiers. He didn’t know them, but it was still one more life lost that wasn’t necessary. It didn’t sit right.

Ichigo lifted the thin, white collar in his left hand. “I hate to have to do this to you.”

The shinigami hid it well, but Ichigo noticed the prideful, indignant rage that flared behind those electric eyes. “So don’t,” he growled. 

It was complicated. He beat Grimmjow, he won. ‘To the spoils go the victor’, so they said. He didn’t feel like the victor. 

Grimmjow bared his teeth, pointing the tip of the sword in accusation. “Why am I alive anyway. I ain’t gonna tell you shit.”

Ichigo didn’t have the heart to tell him why. Aizen wanted nothing from him––expected nothing. Jaegerjaquez was alive because Ichigo requested it. Nothing more and nothing less. 

_ ‘You’re alive because I couldn’t kill you.’ _

_ ‘You’re alive because I’m weak.’ _

Ichigo dropped his reiatsu like an anvil, but it brought him no satisfaction when the shinigami’s knees struck the ground. It didn’t feel good at all. 

The shinigami struggled beneath the burden of his power, pinned like a mouse, powerless. Fear pricked at Grimmjow’s eyes, pupils narrowed to pinpricks. Ichigo didn’t look, he stepped in close, securing the collar around his neck. He leaned back, reiatsu lifting from the shinigami's shoulders, but Grimmjow caught his arm.

“Stop doin’ me  _ favors _ , arrancar.”

Grimmjow knew. He knew Ichigo was sticking his neck out, and it wasn’t helping either of them.

“You want me to kill you?”

“Fuck no,” the man snarled. He struggled to his feet, using his arm as a brace, and grabbed him again, bloodied fist staining his white coat. “But you could grow a pair and kill me yerself.”

Ichigo reached up, prying swollen and sticky knuckles from his shirt. The arrancar said nothing, backing up to the cell door, honey seized by blue. Ichigo didn’t shut it behind him. It swung wide on silent hinges.

“Do you trust me?” Ichigo asked.

Grimmjow tugged the reiatsu dampening collar, stolen sword in hand, and cautiously stepped out into the white hall. “No.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading~


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